Objects Are Heavier Than They Appear
by dljensengirl88
Summary: Dean came through yet another meeting with death after Osiris sentenced him to die by Jo's hand. But the guilt rages on and Sam is tired of it.


His father was hard on him. He knew his dad loved him, sure, but his expectations were always high. So Dean tended to flinch and slap at compliments as they bit him like mosquitoes. A simple thank you, so rare to hear, brought a shy but brief smile to his face as he dismissed it with, "Sure thing." There wasn't much that could get the stoic hunter to go in on himself, except talking about himself and then you'd better watch your toes because he was surely slamming the door on that topic. But there was at least one person who could get him to stumble while backing him into a corner with questions. Truly one of the few still alive who could press his buttons and not get seriously stung for the effort. The only one who at least had some context to go with all the guilt Dean carried. Sam wasn't sure what was going on this time with his brother, but he knew it was about time Dean started letting some of that burden go and Sam was determined to be the one to get him to do it.

"OK, look. This has gone on long enough, Dean."

"What?"

"You and this..this self-destructive road you're on. This is nuts and it has to stop."

"This is nuts. I am nuts, you mean? Because I believe YOU'RE the one seeing Lucy in the sky with diamonds."

"Dude, I'm not..."

"I know," Dean replied with a wave as he walked over to the window. He was still a bit antsy coming so close to being offed by Jo at the hand of Osiris who was now dead, or at least in a deep sleep for another millennia.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I can't do this."

"Do what? Talk to your brother? I don't judge you, man. You're doing enough of that for yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm so hard on myself I convicted and sentenced myself to death row. Dead man walking like an Egyptian."

Sam sighed, but he wasn't smiling at Dean's jokes or giving up this time. He looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before turning to lock the hotel room door. Dean's eyes narrowed as he watched Sam's back and heard the click of the lock. "Sam? What are you doing?"

Sam cleared his throat and turned back to his brother, watching him with curiosity. Dean stared back with questions in his eyes but refusing to speak further. Sam sighed again, bowing his head as he rubbed his eyes. "Enough, Dean."

Dean raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Enough of what?"

"The bullshit, Dean. You're full of it."

Dean snorted. "Ha! Yeah. I was just telling Jo earlier..."

"You're full of it and I'm sick of it so you're going to talk. WE'RE going to talk, ok," Sam asked, gesturing between them. "You are going to tell me whatever comes to mind and I am going to listen and when you're done, I will tell you why it's all bullshit."

Dean huffed and turned back to the window. "It's all..." Dean rubbed his face in frustration. "You don't know what you're talking about. You think you know, but you don't. Not really."

"Then enlighten me, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth, but silence was all that came out. He shook his head again, looking down at his hands as he noticed them begin to shake ever so slightly. Sam was pushing his buttons now and making him feel trapped, but he knew Sam wasn't worried about anything happening. He could take anything Dean had to dish out and that made him practically invincible. Sam could get past Dean's defenses anytime he chose, but rarely did he choose to exercise that ability. He usually allowed Dean the dignity of keeping his inner life to himself, but then there were times like now when it was time to clean house and release those demons, so to speak.

Sam decided to speak first. "Dean, you do know it's not your fault I'm here?"

Dean turned to face his brother. "I'm the one who went to get you from school, Sam."

"Yeah, but I didn't have to follow. I did have a choice in the matter, you know."

"Eh, maybe. I'm pretty good at making you feel guilty too, you know. Seems to be a gift of mine."

Sam chuckled. "No, I went with you because you're my brother and I will do whatever I can to help you. He was my father too. I know we had our issues, but I didn't want to see him dead."

Dean leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he listened. Sam could see it wouldn't be easy getting his brother to crack.

"Did I ever tell you what happened after Lucifer took over my body? Did I tell you what he showed me?"

Dean kept silent and waited.

"All the people Azazel had surrounded me with. My entire life was being orchestrated by him, Dean. Elementary school teachers, friends, hell, even my prom date..."

"You mean..."

"Yeah," Sam snorted. "Her too."

Dean smirked as he thought about this new information. "Demon prom date. No wonder she was so friendly. Did you two...?"

"That's not important, Dean."

"So Ruby wasn't your first?"

"What?"

"Nevermind." Dean looked back down at his hands, trying to decide what to do with them so they wouldn't betray the emotions swirling around inside him.

Sam sighed again and shook his head with more conviction. "The point is, Dean, you didn't do anything. It's not your fault I am here. It's not your fault Jo died," Sam huffed, the anger starting to build. "...or Jess or mom or dad for that matter. They made their choices too, just like me. It was Azazel and his band of merry followers. You and I were pawns in their stupid game the whole time, Dean." Sam stepped toward his brother trying to catch his eyes. "It's not. your. fault. Can't you get that?!"

Dean looked up and pushed off the wall, his own anger rising within him. "Not my fault? Not my fault?! Sam, I have a lifetime of fuckups that are entirely my fault! That game may have been started by Azazel, but he's dead now, Sam. So is mom, dad, Jess, Jo..." Dean shook his head trying to forget again but losing the battle. "I know those demon assholes started this, but I've played my part too, even when I knew better. The worst of it is the number of times I let you or dad down and the mess that came from it. And how on earth are you not blaming me for dad, Sam? He died because of me!" Inches from Sam, the two stared at each other wiling the other to back down. Dean broke first, clinching one fist as he stepped around his behemoth of a little brother.

"Seriously, Dean? You're still carrying THAT one around? He died FOR you, Dean. There's a difference!"

Dean refused to look back at his brother. The truth of his latest lie keeping him from making any real sense to Sam, he was sure. But what he had done to Amy was just another knot on the rope he was surely going to hang himself with one of these days. He knew he should come clean with Sam. Let him know that what he was saying was only part of what was tearing at his soul. And it wasn't killing Amy that bothered him so much as keeping something from the only person he really trusted and needed. That was the match that lit this new fire of self-hatred, but his dad was the ember that never went out and you didn't have to blow very hard to get that particular fire roaring again.

"Sam," Dean said quietly. "Do you know what I hear every time something goes wrong?"

Sam shook his head no but said nothing. Even with his back to Sam, Dean knew he had replied. He bit his lip, wringing his hands to get them under control. "I...I hear dad asking me what happened. I can see that disappointment, Sam, and I can hear him telling me to straighten up, there are lives to save and there's no time for screwing around."

"You don't screw around, Dean," Sam whispered. "No one takes this more seriously than you do."

Dean snorted. "So you say. But it's hard man." Dean turned to look his brother, then moved to sit at the table near the kitchen. "I still have dad's voice chiming in every time I fuck up and I can't get away from it, Sam. I can't stop punishing myself for every mess I make because I know dad would have done it if I didn't do it first."

Sam looked at his big brother with sad eyes, knowing that he could never make up for the years he had left Dean alone with their dad. He could never know how hard it probably was for Dean not to have someone to lighten things up when times got heavy. Sam and Dean both knew their dad had done everything he did for their good, but John had left some permanent impressions on both their psyches and Dean's was deeper than even he realized.

Sam sat across from his brother. "You know, Dean, I..I know I wasn't there for some of this, but I'm pretty sure dad wouldn't have punished you nearly as hard as you punish yourself."

Dean laughed again. "If I was harder on myself, Sammy, that left dad no room to make up the difference. Consider it self-preservation."

Sam nodded, understanding from experience what Dean meant. "Is this what's weighing you down, Dean? Is it just dad or is it more than that?"

"Dad is the source, Sam. I know that. He's the one that still gets me to do or not do...just about everything. He's the one I'm still defying when I go off on my own and believe me, I know how screwed up that sounds."

It was Sam's turn to chuckle. "You aren't the only one screwed up by all this."

"No, but you've found a way to deal with it, Sammy. You don't let it mess with you."

"It messes with me more than you think. I just try to keep it from getting the best of me, you know? Dad was difficult to live with, but I did learn what he wanted me to and the crap that sometimes came with those lessons? Well, I just try to forgive and forget."

Dean smiled at the memory of some of those lessons. "I can't seem to do either. Not completely. Not for good." Sam wanted to reach out to his brother, but at the moment couldn't decide the best way to do it without scaring his brother back into his hard shell. So he settled for putting his hand on the table so it was halfway to his brother then stopped before Dean could notice the gesture.

"It's not that I don't want to," Dean said. "I do. I want to hold on to all that dad did that was right and I want to erase every time he hurt me, because most of the time, Sammy, I don't even think he knew what it was doing to me." Dean huffed a small breath. "And that's my fault too, isn't it? That I never spoke up."

"You knew what speaking up could get you, Dean. Wasn't worth it."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But dad wasn't inhuman. I stood up to him enough times to know that I just needed to make a good argument and he wouldn't deny if I was right."

"But you didn't..."

"I didn't and I will always regret that."

"In the end, Dean. You did get his approval in the end. That has to count for something."

Dean smiled. "It does. It helps, man. But it's just a finger in a dam. I don't know if it can ever be enough. I want it to, but I don't know." Dean bit his lip again and looked away.

Sam drew back his hand to clasp it with the other in his lap. He wanted to make his brother feel better. This was bigger than he could handle all at once and he just needed to help his brother find some way to save face now that he had exposed so much of his heart.

"You know, when I went to find you, there was this girl, a blonde..."

Dean looked back at his brother, grateful to follow his brother's lead and shove the pain back in the closet for the night. He cocked his head as he thought. "Nia."

Sam smiled. "She was pretty man, and she looked worried about you too. Maybe you should go let her know you're ok."

Dean smiled back, nodding. "Yeah. It would be a shame to have her wondering," he replied standing up. Sam looked up and smiled. "Get to it then."

Dean nodded and rose, heading for the door. He grabbed the knob and stopped. "Thanks, Sammy," he said without looking back.

"I'm always here, Dean. Whenever you want to share the load. You don't have to figure this out alone."

Dean nodded, then stepped through the door and shut it, closing his eyes as he took in the moment of reprieve he felt for having shared his burdens with his brother. Then he remembered the one burden that still remained as the guilt slowly wrapped itself once again around his heart. Settling back into that familiar feeling, he headed out to let yet another beautiful woman help him temporarily forget just how much weight he carried.


End file.
